


the firepit & the forge

by lesbianophelia



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Badass Katara (Avatar), Banishment, M/M, Northern Water Tribe, Southern Water Tribe, Water Tribe Zuko (Avatar), Water Tribe(s) (Avatar)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:16:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25103803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianophelia/pseuds/lesbianophelia
Summary: After his fateful Agni Kai with his father, Zuko isn't sent to hunt down a ghost. Instead, he's banished, and he and his uncle find refuge in the only territory willing to go against the Fire Lord's orders and offer a home to the dishonored prince and his uncle. The price of safety in the Southern Water Tribe is one they're willing to pay, though when the crown prince uncovers their secret in the leadup to his marriage to the princess of the northern tribe, the anonymity they swore to uphold becomes more complicated.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 187





	the firepit & the forge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HazelRah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazelRah/gifts).



> This fic is both for and owned in part by my friend Hazel, who mapped out all the major points of this fic with me as I recovered from wisdom teeth extraction. Love you.

__ _ Dream the pleasant dreams that people dream _

_ When they grow up down here _ _  
  
_

_ And then the grass grows up to cover up the fire pit and the forge _

_Half a world away from the Olduvai Gorge  
__  
__  
_ Sourdoire Valley Song, The Mountain Goats

* * *

The first time Zuko sees the Crown Prince of the Southern Water Tribe, it’s during the national convention. It’s an honor, being invited to serve during the ceremonies -- something that Iroh has hammered into his head for the last several weeks, as preparations have been made for the meeting between the sister tribes.   
  
There was a time when Iroh and Zuko would have been in a very different position at an event like this, but that’s not a thought worth lingering on. They live a different life, now. One that Zuko attempts to at least pretend to have made peace with. The same way he pretends to make peace with the stupid Wolf Tail that his uncle spends ages twisting his hair up into. The hairstyle will always look stupid on him, he thinks, but he understands that it’s part of the uniform they have to put on.   
  
And so is Zuko’s slightly strained, polite smile. Something his uncle doesn’t seem to have to force at all. Iroh is entirely in his element in the South Pole. He has been since the moment they arrived, something that fascinates and irritates Zuko endlessly. He’ll never understand how easily his uncle seems to be _both_ \-- still every bit the same as he remembers from just before they left the Fire Nation, but a proud contributor to the culture and the glory of the Southern Water Tribe.   
  
Zuko, on the other hand, hasn’t used his firebending in so long that he’s genuinely not certain it will even still work. There’s never enough privacy to practice here, in the Water Kingdom, and the more years that have passed since they arrived, the less sure he’s felt that he’ll even remember his forms. Not that he needs to. Because this is his life, now. Serving tea to the visiting dignitaries from the Northern Water Tribe. He doesn’t need his bending for that. Maybe it’s what he deserves. He can’t even recall the last time he used it. It certainly wasn’t during the Agni Kai, where his father seared half of his face off.   
  
What would he have used it for before then? Was he practicing forms? Lighting a candle? Clearly, he’s forgotten because it wasn’t worth remembering. As upsetting as it can feel at times, all that’s really worth remembering, he thinks, is this. His life in the South Pole with his uncle. It’s a simple one, mostly uncomplicated, bitterly cold. Iroh made a name for himself, quickly. And for Zuko, too, though only as his nephew.   
  
He’s been known as worse things.   
  
  
Zuko’s never actually seen any of the Chieftain's family up close. They’re beautiful, and they sit in nearly perfect contrast to Zuko’s own family, back when he was a part of it. Rich, brown skin. White and blue robes, compared to the black and red of the Fire Nation’s traditional garb. The prince sits at his father’s right hand, just the way Zuko used to wish for, though he looks less than enthused at the honor. He worries one lip between his teeth, staring down at the plate in front of him.   
  
Beside him, the Princess sits upright, alert and engaged, smiling lightly out at the crowd. She’s beautiful. And the picture of diplomacy. But Zuko can’t help the way his eyes keep trailing back over to Prince Sokka, who sits up a little straighter at a not entirely subtle elbow in the ribs from his sister.   
  
“He doesn’t seem very happy to be here,” Zuko mumbles to his uncle.   
  
“Would you be?” Iroh returns, something wry twisting the question up.   
  
“If I was invited to sit at Father’s right hand--” he stops himself at a gentle shushing from Iroh, a good reminder, considering where they are, but not one that he appreciates.   
  
“They’re announcing his betrothal tonight,” Iroh says.   
  
“How do you know that?”   
  
“How do you think?” Iroh laughs. “We work in a tea shop, Zuko. People gossip.”   
  
“Oh.”   
  
“I’m honored to be here tonight to welcome our visitors from our sister tribe,” Chieftain Hakoda is saying from his elevated table. “And, of course, to celebrate the betrothal of my son, Prince Sokka, to Princess Yue of the Northern Water Tribe.”   
  
The applause is polite, soft. Prince Sokka’s smile looks strained, though it does grow just a touch more genuine when the beautiful white haired girl at the end of the table leans forward and waves. Still, there’s something off about it. Something forced, maybe melancholy.   
  
“I didn’t realize marriages were arranged here,” Zuko says.   
  
“Not all of them.” Iroh is busy readying the service cart again. “Just the important ones.” He stokes the little fire underneath the kettle before he adds, “Your marriage would have been arranged, too.”   
  
Iroh is right, of course. Zuko would be at least engaged by now, if not outright married. He’s not exactly sure who his bride would be. Ozai kept several families under his thumb in what was never outright declared as a competition. Though the unspoken promise was, of course, that the more favor the fathers curried with the Firelord, the more likely he would be to select their daughter as Zuko’s intended.   
  
The same is probably happening right now to find a fiance for Azula. Zuko wonders if it’s been announced already. She’s sixteen by now, but an early announcement might help to show stability, since Zuko’s birthright has been stripped. There’s probably no shortage of asshole fire nation nobility who would be willing to send their son off to the palace.   
  
“Come now, Zuko,” Iroh prompts, and he does his best to shake off the ghosts and help his uncle serve. 

. . . 

It’s a few months later when the bell above the door chimes. Zuko calls out a greeting and closes his book, tucking it onto the shelf beneath the register before he stands upright -- and attempts very hard not to let his eyes widen at the prince in front of him.   
  
It’s obvious that Prince Sokka doesn’t wish to be recognized, though his desire leaves something to the imagination. An obviously fake beard, practically falling off of his cheekbones, a hood pulled up over his head but not quite obscuring his face. “Hello -- Hi,” he remembers at the last moment to pitch his voice down. “I would like some tea.”   
  
“Uh.” Zuko swallows. “Yes, of course.” This could be a trick, somehow. A test of his and Iroh’s loyalty to the throne. He’s not sure to what end, but he doesn’t want to risk it. “What kind?”   
  
Prince Sokka’s eyes trail over the menu for a moment, alarmingly blue. Up close, Zuko can see his angled jawline, the way his hair has been let loose from its traditional tie, the way his nostrils twitch just slightly as he thinks. He orders one of Iroh’s favorites and glances over his shoulder every few seconds while Zuko prepares it.   
  
_I know how it feels,_ Zuko wishes he could say. _To wish you were normal. But it’s not all it’s cracked up to be._ _  
__  
_ Instead, he keeps his mouth shut. For the most part.   
  
“How -- uh. How’s your day going?”   
  
The prince looks just a little alarmed, maybe at the threat of having to make small talk. It’s just -- Zuko knows he would have appreciated it. Being treated like he was just anybody, in the days before he really was. “Well,” he says, completely forgetting the false affectation he put on earlier. “It’s going very well. Busy. With . . . my job.”   
  
“Of course,” Zuko hums, presenting him with the tea and ignoring the way the prince scurries off to sit with his back towards the far window. Outside, a group of royal guards pass. The former prince says nothing of the way the heir to the southern water tribe slouches in relief once they’re gone.   
  
. . . 

  
It’s not every week. Not even every other week. But Zuko gets the impression, somehow, that it is every time the prince gets a chance to sneak away. Blessedly, the fake beard is ditched the after the first visit, though he does keep his hood up around his face. If Zuko had any idea how to say it, he might mention that the pristine quality of his fur hood gives him away, just a little.   
  
“I don’t think I ever caught your name,” the prince says after maybe their fifth meeting. Zuko swallows, wondering not for the first time if he should have adopted a fake name when he and Iroh came to the city. It’s not a secret, exactly, their status as refugees. Though, maybe if Zuko were less proud as a thirteen year old, they could have passed as coming from the Earth Kingdom.   
  
Though it’s not as if his name carries any real weight anymore. He’s certain that by now, Ozai has had it struck from every document.   
  
“Or is it a secret?” There’s something light, nearly playful on the prince’s face. “I’m not very good at guessing.”   
  
“Zuko,” he offers. “It’s -- my name is Zuko.”   
  
Something flickers across the other man’s face. “That’s familiar,” he says.   
  
“It’s -- uh. A pretty common name,” Zuko says, wiping his hands on his apron. “Where I’m from.”   
  
“Oh,” the prince offers a smile. “So . . . You’re not from around here?”   
  
“Fuck.” Zuko doesn’t mean to say it out loud, but it earns him a sharp, nearly delighted laugh from Prince Sokka. He remembers that, too. Wishing for someone to just be normal in front of you. So he presses his luck. “I don’t . . . really talk about it.”   
  
The prince nods sagely. “Got it,” he says. “It’s a nice shop.”   
  
“Yeah,” Zuko says. “I mean. Thanks. It’s my uncle’s.”   
  
The prince nods sagely, as if committing this to memory. He seems to forget exactly how big the tip he stuffs into the little jar by the register is, but Zuko isn’t complaining.  
  
. . .   
  
“I think that boy likes you,” Iroh teases one day, and Zuko realizes that his uncle has been hiding in the back intentionally. Maybe not even just this time. Maybe every single time the prince has come in while his uncle has been in the store.   
  
“You know who he is, right?” Zuko asks, disbelieving. Here he had been keeping a secret for no damn good reason.   
  
“A friend of yours,” Iroh says, his eyes bright with something very much like mischief. “Which is nice to see.”   
  
Zuko rolls his eyes. “No, Uncle, he’s--”   
  
“Coming back in,” Iroh claps a hand against Zuko’s shoulder, scurrying off into the back.   
  
“Hi,” Zuko says dumbly. “Did you--?”   
  
“Are you busy?” he asks. “Like, right now?”   
  
Zuko blinks. “I’m sorry. What?”   
  
“Just.” The prince reaches up, scrubbing one hand against the back of his neck.”I don’t know. I thought we could maybe . . . go for a walk? Or something?” he’s clearly fumbling for the words, and it makes Zuko laugh, though he tries to hide it. “I don’t -- get to get out a lot.”   
  
“You don’t say,” Zuko drawls, and it earns him a grin from the prince, who shoots a paranoid look over his shoulder.   
  
“I just --” he clears his throat. “I don’t know. I thought, maybe . . .”   
  
The question hangs in the air just long enough for Iroh, who has absolutely been listening through the swinging door, to come out and push Zuko by the shoulders.   
  
“He would love to,” his uncle says.   
  
Zuko rolls his eyes, but he’s quick to untie his apron, folding it over his arm and handing it over. It’s not all that often he gets a night off. Iroh reaches over to try to fuss with Zuko’s hair and gets his hand batted at in response, and when Zuko sees the way the Prince can’t seem but to help looking over his shoulder, he gives, just a little.   
  
“Do you want to head out through the back?” he offers, though he really doesn’t have a reasonable excuse. Not one that doesn’t show his hand.   
  
Thankfully, the prince doesn’t seem to need one. “Yes,” he says. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”   
  
“I never got your name,” Zuko says once they’ve reached the alley behind the tea shop, as if he doesn’t fully already know. It’s entertaining enough just to watch the prince falter. Like he really hasn’t thought this through at all.   
  
“It’s. Ah. I’m -- Bato.”   
  
“Bato?” Zuko repeats.   
  
“Bato,” Prince Sokka says again, nodding sagely this time. “Like -- uh. My-- I mean. It’s a common name. Around here.”   
  
“Okay,” Zuko says. “Any idea where we’re going?”   
  
Prince Sokka laughs just a little, the breath curling up in front of his face as he does. “Maybe a little,” he says. “How long have you and your uncle lived here?”   
  
“Uh.” Zuko tries to run the odds, but there’s no real risk in admitting to it. At least, none he can think of immediately. “Five years,” he says. “We moved here when I was thirteen. Me and my uncle.”   
  
“And how long have you had the tea shop?” the prince asks.   
  
“Two years now.” He thinks it’s probably supremely uncool, bragging about his uncle, but he almost can’t help himself. It’s like he’s possessed by Iroh. “He was serving at someone else’s shop -- the one by the bridge--”   
  
“I know that one,” the prince interrupts, and then he ducks his head. “Sorry. Continue.”   
  
“Oh, that was all,” Zuko says, grateful for the excuse to shut up. “You never told me where we’re going.”   
  
“It’s a fountain,” the prince says. “I used to go with my sister, when we were kids. I haven’t been in years.”   
  
“Older or younger?” Zuko asks, as if he doesn’t already know.   
  
“Younger,” Prince Sokka says, and there’s something undeniably fond about his expression. It makes Zuko’s stomach knot with some strange mixture of jealousy and hurt.   
  
“You’re close,” he guesses.   
  
“Eh,” he laughs, obviously underselling their bond. “I mean -- she’s my sister,” he says, as if that explains it. “And our father, he had to travel a lot more, when we were kids. When all the brokering with the Northern Tribe was still being done.” It’s quiet for a beat. “Do you have any siblings?”   
  
“Yes,” Zuko answers automatically, and hates himself for it. “I mean -- no.”   
  
“That your final answer?” the prince teases, though the smile slips off his face when he realizes what he might have just implied. “I’m sorry,” he says. “That probably wasn’t funny.”   
  
“It’s fine,” Zuko says. He feels almost like he owes more of an explanation. But he doesn’t have one. Not one that feels okay to offer right now.   
  
“So is it just you and your uncle?”   
  
“Yes.”   
  
“Do you even like tea?” he asks. “I imagine you must be sick of it by now.”   
  
Zuko laughs. “Not very much,” he admits. “Don’t tell my uncle I said that.”   
  
“I won’t,” promises the prince.   
  
It’s so easy -- deceptively so. As if they could have just been friends. As if they still would be, if the prince had any idea who Zuko really was. He knows that’s not true, but it’s a nice enough fantasy. Iroh was right. Zuko doesn’t have friends around here. He didn’t have friends in the Fire Nation either.   
  
“What do you do for fun?” he asks, and the question is simple enough, but it takes Zuko a moment to come up with an answer. At his silence, the prince laughs and reaches over, wrapping his hand around Zuko’s arm through the fabric of his jacket. “Harsh,” he laughs. “I don’t really do much for fun either. I think we’re supposed to have hobbies, but, I don’t know.”   
  
“It’s hard,” Zuko agrees, forgetting to keep his cards close to his chest for a moment. “When everyone has their expectations for you.”   
  
The prince hesitates. “Is your uncle really that hard on you?” he asks.   
  
Zuko laughs through his nose. Probably, he should lie. It just doesn’t seem worth it when the prince has met his uncle, even in passing.   
  
  
The fountain is beautiful. He should have expected as much, probably, that the water tribe prince would find somewhere beautiful. And somewhere full of water. The steps that lead down to the reflective pool are slick with ice, and though they have to walk slowly even in their boots, Prince Sokka reaches over and grabs onto Zuko’s arm. It’s something the firebender tries hard not to read too much into.   
  
“Oh.” The prince squints as he glances around. “The lanterns aren’t on.”   
  
Zuko follows his gaze around, taking in the ring of lanterns around the fountain. There are dozens, strung up from posts, floating in the partially icy water. He swallows hard, weighing his options. As if his decision isn’t made for him when the other man sighs.   
  
“They were always lit, when we were kids. I don’t know why they’re out tonight. Maybe it’s too cold, or--”   
  
“Close your eyes.”   
  
The prince’s surprise at being interrupted can’t be missed, though it doesn’t seem to actually upset him. “Why?” he asks.   
  
“Um,” Zuko hesitates. He should take the out. Should remember himself, what a bad idea this is. He doesn’t. “Just do it.”   
  
“Okay, okay.” The prince makes a show of pulling his hand away from Zuko’s arm and slapping it over his eyes. Zuko takes a breath, hesitates, and closes his eyes. He’s practiced a few times, in the last weeks. Enough to make sure that he at least remembered how to light a candle.   
  
So this should be easy.   
  
Risky, but easy.   
  
He manages, trying to ignore the way that the prince is bouncing on his toes, maybe a combination of cold and nerves. Excitement, maybe? Anticipation?   
  
“Okay,” Zuko says. “You can--”  
  
“ _Woah_ ,” he drags the word out before his hand is even off of his eyes. The lights reflect in his eyes, somehow even brighter there. “You--” he starts, and then he stops himself, and Zuko’s stomach bottoms out. He should have found a torch, or something. Or, maybe he should have left the stupid lanterns off. “You can _firebend??”_ his voice isn’t angry, exactly. More incredulous. “That’s . . .”   
  
“I--”   
  
“That’s so _cool_ ,” he says, grabbing Zuko by the wrist and dragging his hand up towards his eyes, as if he’s going to see how it works right through Zuko’s skin.   
  
“C--cool?” Zuko asks haltingly.   
  
“I’ve never seen it,” he admits, still gripping onto Zuko’s hand. “Can you show me?”   
  
Zuko clears his throat. It doesn’t make sense, the prince being so impressed by bending, even if it is a different element. “You’ve never seen firebending?” he asks.   
  
He blinks, caught in his lie for just a second. “Not up close,” he explains. “I mean. Why would I? It’s not like we have a surplus of firebenders around here.” He turns Zuko’s hand over, examining his nails. “Will you show me more?”   
  
“Yeah,” he says, but he doesn’t move to pull away until the prince’s eyes meet his. “I just, uh. Need my hand.”   
  
“Right.” He shoves his hand down into his jacket pocket. “Okay. Do I need to stand back, or . . .?”   
  
“No,” Zuko can’t help his laughter. “I won’t do anything that dangerous. I just, uh . . .” he moves his wrist, producing a tiny flicker he can hold in his palm. He hears the other man’s inhale.   
  
“Woah,” he says. “And that’s, just --” he reaches over, holding his fingers just over the fire. Zuko panics, putting it out quickly. This earns him an incredulous laugh. “Shit,” he says.   
  
“Sorry,” Zuko wipes his sweating palm against the fabric of his pants. “I, uh. I shouldn’t have--”   
  
“No,” the prince interrupts, a wry smile twisting his lips. “You probably shouldn’t have. But--”   
  
“But?” Zuko tries, barely even hopeful. Probably, he’ll be taken into custody. Or--   
  
“My sister. She’s a bender,” he says, the words seeming to just tumble out of his mouth without any real permission. “And no one will teach her. Because -- it’s just . . . but -- if someone would just _show_ her . . .” he leaves it open, as if Zuko should volunteer.   
  
“Oh. I don’t . . . really know anything about waterbending,” Zuko says. And, he’s fairly certain he shouldn’t let the princess know about what he can do anyway. Showing the prince was a stupid enough move, borne out of some bizarre, misplaced sense of kinship. “I’m pretty out of practice even just with the fire, and--”   
  
“But it’s all the same, isn’t it?” he asks. “Like --” he makes some vague gesture with his hands, as if he thinks you bend just by flinging your arms around. “You could show her _something,_ at least, and--” he stops himself, the excited smile slipping off his features. Zuko misses it with every passing second. “It’s just -- uh. There’s something I have to do. Something that Katara -- I mean --” he gives his eyes a little roll, somehow only just realizing that he’s been caught in his lie. “Something that my sister would be better at than I will.”   
  
It’s silent for a moment. Two. Zuko finds that he can’t actually bear it, letting the other man down, even when he offers a slightly strained smile and says,   
  
“Okay. That’s fine. It was just an idea.”   
  
“I know someone.” The offer is beyond stupid. Reckless in a way that doesn’t just implicate himself. And it’s not something Zuko can even guarantee. “I’m not the right person to teach her. But -- I know someone. A guy. He’s studied a lot of different practices, and . . .”   
  
“And he would teach her, you think?” the prince’s eyes are shining.   
  
Zuko swallows. “If anyone could,” he says. “It would be him.” 

**Author's Note:**

> it was only a matter of time before I started a WIP huh?  
> I changed my URL! Tumblr: servicetopsokka 
> 
> I am.... interested in working a beta, if anyone wants to hit me up about. that whole deal. I don't know what the process is here, if I'm being honest. It's been 5 years since I've joined a new fandom and I have not yet tapped into the community too hard over on tumblr. Thank you so so much to everyone who has been so incredibly kind reading/reviewing/kudoing the other fics I've posted. It's been so much fun to jump into a new fandom and be welcomed like this :) 
> 
> -Ophie


End file.
